


Foxtrot Tango Bravo

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Team Little Black Dress, Trekstock Prompt 2: Music in the soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jim is being Jim, Spock sees something unexpected in McCoy. It is only logical that new ways of seeing and thinking about something leads something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foxtrot Tango Bravo

The ceremonial hall was filled with silent guests, who waited attentively for the speeches to start. According to what he’d been told when given this cultural opportunity, there would be a benediction, a speech, and then a speech that would introduce Captain James T. Kirk as the guest of honor. Jim as the most famous guest at a group wedding. Did they not know him and his reputation at all?

Uhura had written something appropriate, and re-written it in indelible ink on the palms of his hands. She said that she was the only one who had the proper chemical to wash it off his skin and if he screwed this up, she wouldn’t remove it. Jim was confident either of the mad geniuses flanking him could figure it out, but she might have got to them. She didn’t have the hold of a relationship over Spock anymore, but both men were smart enough to heed her words. 

The first being finished a droning chant that made the bones in Jim’s ears ache, which he assumed was the benediction. A second being stood and began to speak. His words Jim’s universal translator understood, forcing him to actively ignore the man. He was blathering on about the importance of tradition, rules, and structure; all the things Jim had spent most of his life avoiding. Jim made a mental note to tell Spock to adjust the UT to make the standard speeches from around the galaxy more interesting. Jim could almost hear Bones complain that Spock wouldn’t understand interesting if it bit him in the ass, so he turned to grin approval at Bones. 

Bones only scowled back, as if he wasn’t aware of what was going on in Jim’s mind. Spock was on Jim’s other side, but seem to be actually listening to the speech. Mad geniuses it was then. When this being finished talking, Jim almost applauded before remembering that wasn’t done here. Many things weren’t done here, such as free will, choice, and music, apparently. Between the speeches, the brides and grooms were dancing. 

The brides were on one side of the long hall, while the grooms were on the other. Both wore silver clothes but the males had hair that stood up from their bulbous heads, while the women had hair down their backs. They danced in their sections, the steps slow and repetitive. As awful as his childhood had been, Jim was very glad there wasn’t a forced marriage at the end of it, the woman chosen to provide the best combination of genes for the future of their society. If Jim thought about it too much, he could really start to hate the idea, which often led to him doing stupid things. 

The dancing stopped and the next speech began. After Jim’s turn, one of the officials would begin reading off the names. He’d call out a male, a female, and they would all wait while the couple met. Possibly for the first time, or they could be hated coworkers, but someone called out their names and now they were partners for life. 

“Our guest of honor and representative of the United Federation of Planets, James T. Kirk.” 

Jim stood and fought back the wave he was used to tossing out at large crowds who recognized him. He held his hands together, palms up, about level with his belly button, in what he hoped the crowd took for a formal human gesture. It let him see Uhura’s writing while still seeming to look over the crowd. It was more of the bland, banal words the others had said. 

“Greetings, new couples of Quiclichek.” So much wrong with this, and he had to be polite about it because interfering with the development of a culture would be bad. Fuck it all anyway. “Earth actually has a similar marriage custom. Since you all like to dance, instead of giving you the lovely speech I have, I’m going to show you a dance that might be used as the first dance of a newly married human couple.” 

Turning, Jim held a hand out to Bones, who managed to growl back with only his eyes. It was rather impressive. 

“Bones, you get to lead this tango.” 

Bones stood to snarl a whisper to Jim, and got hauled to the dance floor while he did. “The tango usually isn’t done at weddings.” 

“No.” Jim agreed quietly. “But if you do it right it can lead to shotgun weddings.” 

Annoyance and amusement fought it out on Bones’ face, so he stepped off and lead Jim in a silent tango. 

Spones 

Len took in the quiet and empty rec room as he emerged from the lockers. In the silence he warmed up his muscles and stretched, hoping the room would still be empty when he was ready for the boxing gloves and punching bag. They were the only friends Len was used to having around as he worked out his frustrations on an inanimate object. The boxing gloves protected his surgeon’s hands from the worst of the damage just as the punching bag protected his patients. 

Not that he’d ever actually hit a patient, but he’d threatened more than one. Those threats worked best when it looked like he could actually follow through with it and cause some pain. The punching bag and boxing glove combo had allowed his marriage to last another two years. He’d have never hit her either, but the punching bag kept Len from giving himself a stress induced heart attack. 

Tonight, or this morning, whichever it technically was, the punching bag would take his annoyance over Jim’s rash actions. Jim must have looked good on that dance floor; one short tango had somehow lead to a revolution on the planet. This sort of thing did not make high command happy. They had so much anger that they even managed to spread some of it onto Len for not refusing to dance with Jim. As if stopping Jim was an option. A drink of water and the punching would begin, Len decided seconds before the door opened. 

Spock stepped through, looking confused, in his own hard-to-read way. 

Len sipped the water and waited. 

“Doctor, it is unusual to encounter you here at o’four hundred hours.” 

“Stressful day, needed to pound on something that won’t hit back.” 

“Is this considered a healthy expression of anger?” 

“Close enough for my psych degree.” Len shrugged, enjoying the way Spock’s face showed he was processing Len’s words. “What brings you by?” 

“My meditation was suboptimal and physical effort has been found to assist in such endeavors.” 

“You’re pissed at Jim for his little tango of revolution?” 

“As Vulcan and Quiclichek have much in common I see their revolution as only having been expedited by Jim’s activities.” 

“Why would they have rebelled eventually, when Vulcans are still following strict societal rules?” 

“The dance was only a catalyst. It was the controlled reaction and spread of the revolt that shows it has been building for a long time.” Spock said. 

“You old softie; you think true love wins all.” 

“Love is not the issue. I believe that individuality will always be preferable to conformity. Consider yourself, Doctor.” 

“What have we tried to teach you about informal settings, Commander?” Len knew he was probably digging his own grave, talking to Spock like he was in kindergarten, but it was fun. 

“Leonard.” 

“Not so hard is it? You didn’t even have to repress rolling your eyes at me. Now go on, let’s talk about me.” 

“I have noticed that you maintain a better than average physical body. I have seen your hands skillfully perform delicate operations under extreme circumstances. Apparently, I still labored under the erroneous conclusion that you were a craftsman and not an artist.” 

“Two things. One, thank you, I guess. Two, what’s the difference between a craftsman and an artist to you?” 

“It is hard to define, though I do know it when I see it.” 

“Spock, are you comparing me to porn?” 

“Pornography? It could be considered sexual, but it is more. As if your very katra was visible in your movements.” 

“Soul? You saw my soul when I was dancing with Jim?” Len said, before thinking on it. “You saw my soul and thought it was porno? Listen up my pointy-eared pal, I will use you as a punching bag if you don’t say you want to have sex with me.” 

“The threat of physical violence would seem to be unnecessary, as it was such a desire that disturbed my meditations.” 

Len was actually fate’s punching bag or hallucinogenic, always a possibility on this ship, because his ears were trying to convince him Spock thought he was sexy. Spock wanted his body. He was making a bad joke and a fake threat to keep the conversation friendly, but now Spock was staring at him and turning funny shades of green. 

“Spock, considering that the tango Jim and I shared was so sexy it started a revolution, are you sure you aren’t influenced by some external force? Like drugs or alcohol?” 

“There is an old Earth quote that you reminded me of a moment ago; ‘music in the soul can be heard by the universe’. When you let your music out through the dance, the universe responded. I have considered you a friend for some time now, but seeing you move showed me you were a sexual creature, other than in the biological sense. I would appreciate the chance to explore this new idea further.” 

“I’m only human, so you’ll have to give me more than a day to get over such an amazing turn of events. But, in the meantime, Mister Spock, may I have this dance?” 

“Indeed you may.”

All things being equal, they made beautiful music together. 


End file.
